


Percentages

by Attasee



Series: Percentages [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Addiction, Flash Fic, M/M, Rehabilitation, Social Anxiety, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: Very short because it didn't need to be any longer....Quick EDIT: There's going to be more.Flash Fiction.





	1. 1%

D

e

Stiles only needs to type the first two letters of Derek Hale’s name into the Instagram search bar now before it recognizes it. He doesn’t even need to hit the letter ‘r’ and Derek’s profile will always appear as the first result at the top of his screen.

It’s sad, embarrassing and Stiles is unsure when it happened.

His thumb, as it always does, - and as it has been doing since last year - hovers over Derek’s name, profile picture of him in his gear and blue official tick. 99% of Stiles wants to ignore the ‘3 new posts’ notification that’s been updated since last night but as always the other 1% is a masochist who apparently still revels in torturing him on an hourly basis.

When his finger finally taps the screen it does so with a force hard enough to break it and Stiles immediately wishes he’d hadn’t bothered.

Derek is back in LA.

Derek is still tanned.

Derek went out last night.

Derek has even posted a _‘Your Story’._

_Shit._

Stiles’ first reaction is to close his eyes hide behind his fingers so he can’t see it and he curses the masochistic 1% that needs him to tap the small round circle.

Does Stiles want to see what Derek has been doing?

Does Stiles want to put himself through it all again?

1%

Derek dancing.

Derek singing.

Derek drunk. Really drunk. He’s falling over into the road.

If Stiles could afford another he’d hurl the iPhone against the wall and break it into a thousand pieces. Instead he clutches at his chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The hurt and pain was supposed to go. Scott had promised him it would during conversations over ice cream while listening to break up music.

_‘It’ll get better.’_

_‘Give it time.’_

_‘It’s Derek loss.’_

_‘But I love him.’_

_‘You did.’_

_‘I did the right thing.’_

_‘You did. You couldn’t live a lie Stiles.’_

Stiles glances back to his phone unaware how long he’s been starring at the wall.

Another update. The circle around Derek’s picture has turned pink again meaning he is still awake and posting.

1%

Stiles closes his eyes then reopens them.

He can see Derek is still drunk. His ex-boyfriend is now at the familiar white beach side home Stiles knows Derek bought after being named MVP and he’s alone, lying on a lightly swaying blue hammock staring at the incoming tide.

“Today is not a good day.” Derek says softly to camera and Stiles can hear a slight slur in his voice from the alcohol over the sound of the waves. “Today is not a good day. This?” Derek continues.” This right here? Me, like this? This mess? This is me missing him so much.”

1%   


	2. 1% and Counting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it goes on....

It’s been two days since Stiles looked at Instagram, Facebook and Twitter, and not once has he regretted deleting any of the apps. He’s trying to hide from the inevitable fallout, and rather than trawl the internet looking for clues, hints and news he’s been tucking himself away in his workshop sanding and varnishing wood until it shines.

He hasn’t heard once from Derek. 

Not once.

But then who knows?

His mobile is very purposely still sat in the cubby hole of his jeep where it’s been for two days. Yes, he’s heard it ring and buzz but he’s ignoring it and he hopes by now the battery will have died. He knows that Scott’s tried the workshops land line once or twice because he’s heard the tinny ring echo through the small metal framed work shop and Scott’s voice boom out over the answer machine but Stiles has never answered.

_‘Dude. Answer the phone.’_

_‘Please’_

Stiles’ dad’s has also tried to make contact; of course Sheriff John Stillinski takes the direct route and turns up in his cruiser rather than call. He doesn’t say much when arrives and Stiles usually doesn’t answer.

Or tries not to.

_‘You okay?’_

_‘I’m okay. Busy. Got a ton of work to complete.’_

_‘Call me if you want a chat son.’_

Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

Two days after Derek’s post Stiles’ still can’t understand why people think he would have an opinion on what baseball’s MVP was talking about. Earlier that day he’d mistakenly gone into town to grab some milk because the black coffee he’d been drinking was beginning to taste awful only to overhear the _‘what about Derek Hale’_ questions. The last time it happened Stiles couldn’t have left the store fast enough if he tried.

They’d been so careful.

No one knew.

Obviously Scott knew.

Or at least he thought only Scott knew. Had his best friend betrayed him?

Stiles snorts at such a ridiculous thought, planing a little too much wood off the arm of a chair as he does so.

The questions have been wrapping themselves around his brain again becoming tighter each time he thinks about everything. His chest still hurts; his heart feels numb, cold and broken, and not for the first time Stiles finds himself staring at the work shop wall waiting for some sort of interruption. This time it’s the sound of the work shop phone ringing that snaps him out of it.

1% of him wants to answer it.

That 1% is making him want to scratch at his skin hard and pick at the ends of his dust covered finger nails.

Answer it.

Just do it.

Stiles’ hands slips.

“Stillinski Designs.”

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. For everything.”

Fuck the 1%.


	3. 40% Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and on... and on...

Stiles lets the workshop phone roll over to the answer machine one more time.

“Stiles. Stiles it’s me Scott.” He hears his best friend say as soon as the beep echoes around the small space. “Pick up dude. Something’s happened… I mean not to me or Kira or the baby… but Derek. They’ve issued some sort of press release. Kira saw it. He’d in rehab… painkillers and alcohol… I mean shit… did you kn-.”

Thank fully the answer machine cuts Scott off before he can finish just as Stiles attempts nonchalantly to turn his attention back to the arm chair he’s been working on all week.

Plane.

Sand.

Varnish.

Repeat.

It’s what he knows and what centers him. It stops the swirling in his brain and the pain in his chest reappearing especially when he thinks of the word 'rehab'.

"Rehab eh?" Stiles says as he runs the plane over the arm rest. The word rolls off his tongue.

Derek’s probably been there for over a week now by Stiles’ estimation. In fact, the phone call from a few nights ago makes even more sense now knowing that Derek has probably had his mobile removed and didn’t have Stiles’ new cell number, even though it had been on the tip of his tongue so often to give it to him. Derek knew the landline number – lots of sixes and nine’s – so it made sense that he had called that one.

Strangely Stiles feels calm knowing Derek is probably not in the same state as him. A small percentage of his brain 'had' been happy that Derek had called. Elated even. But then that feeling had disappeared as quickly as it had come. Sure, he hadn’t given Derek a chance to say anything else because Stiles had slammed the receiver down, but that small blissful percentage was quickly eaten up by the tendrils of hurt and anxiety that had laced themselves together over his heart.

Now though, Stiles feels calm.

Derek hadn’t called him because he needed him. No. And Stiles can ignore the words, “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. For everything,” because he now knows Derek dialled it because it was the only number he could remember. Or was pissed.

“Well shit,” Stiles says with a smile. He reaches across the arm chair, picks up his phone and without thinking unlocks it with his finger print. "Be brave Stillinski."

He has thirty two messages.

Ten voice mails.

Stiles listens to each one carefully. His dad, Kira, and Scott (again). He’ll ring them all later. The last voice mail however is from a number he doesn’t recognize.

“Mr. Stillinski,” the voice says with a deep breathe. “I am Elliot Jackson, Derek Hale’s agent. We need to speak at some point. Derek has asked me to call you as a matter of urgency. He can’t talk at the moment… the facility he is in… Mr. Stillinski – Stiles…I think it may be pertinent that you contact me on the number-. ”

 1% and rising.


	4. 95% Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and on and on....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please note this is a really low angst story. No harm to self etc. is planned unless Stiles lops his figure off accidentally with some wild wood plane action)

D

E

R

E

K

It takes an age for the Instagram page to load up and Stiles checks the light on the WiFi box to make sure he has a connection. Waiting for the clock-like timer at the top of his iPhone screen to stop rotating has over the past few days become his least favourite way of wasting time and he can’t help but curse the shitty signal he gets in his small cabin.

But from not looking at any social media Stiles suddenly now can’t get enough and its making him twitchy.

“Come on,” he says through gritted teeth.

Twitter

Facebook

Instagram

News feeds

He’s become a man obsessed and but is refusing to admit it’s all down the answer machine message left by Derek’s agent. Something is afoot, he knows. Not that Stiles’ has actually returned Elliot Jackson call. Not even close. Even if Scott thinks it’s a _‘really’_ good idea that he does.

‘It might be bad news Dude.’

‘Then I’d rather you be the one to tell me,’ Stiles had told him earlier that day.

‘It might be good news.’

‘That’s he’s out of rehab and a fully functioning human being again? Fucking hell it’s only been a week Scott, it’s gonna take longer than a couple of days to get Derek Hale’s blood stream back to a healthy 92% oxygen.’

'You mean he’s been drink…?’ Stiles actually hears a gasp down the line.

Absolutely.

Yes.

All the time.

And there it was.

It was the thing that Stiles had never admitted to anyone. The thing he wasn’t supposed to say out loud. Or one of them anyway.

‘I thought it was over between you both because Derek wouldn’t bat his way out of the damn closet?’

It had been that. Partially.

But the alcohol flowed and then the injuries came and the painkillers were popped.

One of Baseball’s highest ranked players and an MVP for 2015 no less, was an addict.

‘Fucking hell Stiles.’

Fucking hell indeed.

Stiles watched it unfold live on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter for two years and had been unable to anything about it.

The timer has stopped turning when Stiles checks his phone one last time. No new updates, nothing and without thinking he locks the device and places it on the rustic coffee table with a thud. Rolling his neck Stiles turns towards the wall he has covered with pictures of him, Scott, Kira and the kids, and finally the only picture he has of him and Derek on public view.

It’s a good photo, a sun set, the sea, and Derek Smiling.

Stiles still misses him so much. He reaches across the coffee table to tap the wooden frame. “I hope you’ve got this Derek,” he says quietly before picking up his mobile again and hitting the re-call button. “Can I speak to Elliot Jackson please? Tell him it’s Miroslav Stillinski.”

99%

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. 21% of 90 days complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the cabin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research was needed for this chapter. It looks far too hot in California.

For the first time in two weeks Stiles is outside of his comfort zone. Gone temporarily, are the metal structures that make up his workshop and the wooden frame of his beloved one bed roomed cabin in the woods. It feels strange being away from it, but like Stiles has been told by Scott he needs to pull his big boy pants up now and just ‘get the fuck on with it.’

Pulling them up of course meant leaving the cabin.

Pulling them up has him driving along the I10 passing The World’s Biggest Dinosaurs Attraction on his way to Palm Springs as he does so.

“God damn it,” Stiles says pulling at the collar of his t-shirt. The seven hour drive south has seen him experience every type of season with the temperature finally settling just above 88 degrees.

They are expecting him at 2pm. Or rather a man called Greg Jones will be – who is – according to Elliot Jackson – the man responsible for Derek’s treatment, and the man who asked Stiles to attend the rehab facility two days before.

‘Derek has requested you be here for one of his therapy sessions Stiles. I – he – feels it will be an important part of his therapy in his journey that will help him overcome present and future challenges and build a healthy, clean new life.’

‘Its over seven hour’s drive away,’ Stiles had replied with a snort.

Greg had continued anyway ignoring Stiles’ vocal frustrations. ‘Derek has offered to pay for your flights.’

Derek could shove his no doubt first class flights up his ass, Stiles had thought at the time.

He still could.

His jeep was good.

His jeep was safe.

It may have been a veteran but it was reliable and had been getting him from A to B without issues for over ten years.

Stiles slowly reverse parks the jeep as instructed in bay 12 just beside three small white buses. Climbing out, he stretches his arms upwards and casts his gaze over the front of the stone colored building he recognizes from his google searches with a shudder. It feels too hot; he’s always prefers the cool shade of the forest and the smallness of his cabin. Here though? It’s big and exposed and it’s making him itchy and uncomfortable.

“Stiles?” The voice rings out across the half empty car park. “You came.”

Stiles turns slowly towards the voice to find Derek – or a man who looks a little like Derek – stood under the wooden canopy. It’s clear his ex-boyfriend has lost weight, his clothes hang off him, his complexion is pale, and his hair now a buzz cut.

It’s not even been three weeks.

How much damage had Derek done to himself? How had Stiles missed it?

“I came. Too fucking hot though.” 

“It’s cooler indoors.”

Stiles glances towards the glass entrance way and nods at the second man who has just stepped outside to join them.

He can do this he thinks with a sigh.

Face his fears.

Face Derek.

Stiles rubs instinctively at his chest.

1%


	6. 50% Relief 50% Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Air conditioning rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of longer chapter because it couldn't break any sooner. Plus I'm flying by the seat of my pants now

The hotel Stiles finally finds a room in is as close to Derek’s rehab facility as it can be. Just on the outskirt of Palm Springs it has air conditioning (thank god), WiFi and a mini bar. He hadn’t been originally due to stay overnight telling Scott he would return as soon as he could after sleep and food but at some point during the day Stiles knew he couldn’t leave, didn’t want to if truth be told.

Right this minute though Stiles is honoring the one request Derek had made…‘as soon as you leave here, check the net.’ Of course Stiles had queried it with the therapist once Derek was out of hearing range and in another sound proof room, but the guy had agreed it would be an okay thing to do.

‘He’s worried about you - more about you than himself if I was to be honest – its concerning. Derek states he doesn’t want you to get dragged into his issues.’

‘It’s a bit lat-.’

‘No, what he means is… he wants this to happen on his – your – terms, that’s if you wish to have those terms of course.’

Stiles had sighed at that. ‘Is this to do with the message on Instagram? The one where he states he still misses some and the shit finally hit the fan? I think Derek has more enough on his plate at the moment than worrying about that shit. He’s a pro baseball player, one of the best in world and at the moment he looks like half the man he was.’

‘He’s addict Mr Stillinski,’

‘Derek’s a lot of things, an athlete, a friend, an addict, recovering hopefully… whatever, but if you really want my opinion he needs to find the right balance between what he wants and doesn’t want to be. He’ll always be gay Mr Jones, that ain’t ever gonna change, it’s all the other shit he needs to figure out first.’

Derek’s therapist hadn’t really had much of response to that and Stiles had left the facility with a promise to return the day after – not to update Derek on the outside world but because he needed too.

The search bar still defaults to Derek’s name as Stiles types in the first three letters of his name. The Instagram picture of Derek of course hasn’t change but its now the longest he has gone without posting. Stiles’ general search also brings up nothing. Not that he thought it would, but Stiles feels a little better knowing that Derek’s appearance at the front of the building hadn’t been captured by a long range camera lens.

A search Facebook also comes back negative. Stiles rechecks the section where it states 2k people are talking about Derek Hale but nothing stands out. Likewise for Twitter. A few links to news website covering the story from a few weeks ago come back but again nothing recent.

Stiles allows himself to fall back onto the bed. 50% of the fall is in relief; the other 50% is exhaustion and he buries his head into the surprisingly soft hotel pillow.

“It’s going to be okay,” Stiles says with the tiniest bit of energy he can muster.

Of course he doesn’t hear his mobile ringing; instead the ping of the voicemail message tone wakes him. Fumbling across the king size bed Stiles grabs it and hits the play button then the speaker.

“Dude, it’s me. Fuck….” He hears Scott say. “I know you are down there with Derek, but Kira got stopped today while she was taking Violet for a walk. The guy, he asked about Derek. He asked about you. I think they know Bro, they know.”  

100,000%


	7. 0%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home.

Stiles is getting restless, his head feels heavy and his knuckles sore from being locked tight around the steering wheel. The drive back from Palm Springs was – is – of course a nightmare. He has seen three pile-ups, narrowly missing a fourth, before admitting defeat, and forcing himself to stop to grab food and drink coffee.

 With all his heart Stiles wants to be home. It was time for him to roll his jeep back under the car port, unlock his door and crawl into his bed.

Palm Springs had made him feel itchy and tense – not the place no (although the heat was a bitch) but how he had felt after stepping outside the rehab facility earlier that morning was going to haunt him for more than a lifetime.

Nervous.

Scared.

On edge.

Stiles had ended up scanning the horizon more than once, checking bushes, looking behind cars and eventually gotten himself lost attempting to lose a non-existent ‘tail’.

All because a reported had someone got a sniff of a story.

Not for the first time Stiles wonders how Derek has managed to cope being in the limelight for so long then he remembers that Derek hasn’t been able to cope and that man who is lying alone in single bed waiting for an evening meal simply hadn’t been able to cope at all.

At least Stiles thinks, he is home now though and silently thanking the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hill’s’ sign that sits at the edge of his property and conceals the opening to the mile long private driveway that leads up to his cabin and workshop.

Getting out of the jeep Stiles grabs his overnight bag and slams the door shut the sound of which immediately ricochets around the small clearing sending a few startled birds up into the sky.

“Welcome home guys,” he hears himself say to the tree tops.

Casting a glance towards the workshop and cabin Stiles can see that the buildings were looking secure as he knew they would be – he was still never going to admit to Scott his idea to security system the hell out of the place was a good idea – but secretly he was thanking his best friend for making him pour over remote webcam brochures one Saturday.

Without thinking Stiles unlocks the cabin door and steps inside the dark space. Placing the overnight bag on the floor he flicks the light switch bathing the open plan space in light.

It’s been a long two days. His body is sore from driving so when Stiles flops his body down into the single recliner he knows he won’t be getting out of it for a while.

In the silence of the cabin the last two days suddenly hit Stiles.

Derek had looked not like Derek and fucking hell did that hurt.

To see the man that he’d loved broken, because that’s what Derek looked like, was equally breaking his heart as much as it is making him angry.

Where the anger is coming from Stiles doesn’t know. Or does he? His knuckles still stiff from gripping the steering wheel are now holding the leather of the chair so hard he’s going to have problems unfolding them.

How dare Derek put him through this, drag him all the way to Palm Springs. Somehow Stiles manages to release his grip and punch the arm of the chair.

How fucking dare Derek drag Stiles knee deep into his shit.

And now? There is someone sniffing around Beacon Hills asking questions – a development Stiles couldn’t even bring himself to tell Derek about.

Stiles has tried to push Derek out his mind for two years. Or has he? It certainly doesn’t feel like it anymore.

He feels like a frog being boiled alive.

0%


	8. 30% or 1 in 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott gets bossy

It’s been easy to switch everything back off and go silent. Stiles wonders if – not for the first time he could do it permanently – go off grid, live in the wild and be self-sufficient - because there’s no doubt in his head that since he flipped the switch on the router he’s felt calmer.

His mobile is switched on though. After letting Scott know what he is up too Stiles agreed to keep at least one communication line open. The fact that the mobile is currently lying inside cubby hole in his jeep and has been since he returned from Palm Springs is another matter.

‘Dude, do what you need to do okay?’ Scott had told him. Thankfully his best friend hadn’t asked him much about what had gone on with Derek, instead Stiles sat and listened to Scott talk about ‘his woman (Scott’s words), the baby, his job at the clinic and finally how his dad had managed to get rid of the reported who had harassed Kira by threatening him with a misdemeanor.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, your dad was bad ass. I thought he was gonna kick the guys ass.’

‘May be he should have.’

‘Nah, he gave the guys loads of hassle, _'do you know 1 in 3 Americans have some sort of criminal record? I can add you to that tally if you want?'_   but I think he’s saving the ass kicking for Derek.’

Stiles chuckled inwardly at that - Sheriff John Stillinski rocked. Stiles was however slightly tempted to say out loud that if anyone was going to kick Derek’s butt it would be him but instead kept quiet.

Smoothing the arm of the bespoke chair he’s been working on far longer than he should have, Stiles gaze finally falls on the jeep he can see through the workshop window.

His mobile is on silent so he can’t hear it but over the past 24 hours a familiar itch has returned.

He rolls his shoulders and rocks his neck from side to side in an attempt to rid it.

Of course he knows there won’t been an update from Derek. It’s been a week since Stiles saw him and the rehab facility had removed his phone – hell, they even took Stiles’ as a precaution – so he knew all of Derek’s accounts where silent but there was still something in Stiles that made him want to check.

“Fuck it.”

It takes Stiles less than two minutes to grab hills mobile, flick the Wi-Fi router back on in the cabin and connect to the net.

D

E

R

E

K

(It takes a little longer nowadays for the search engine to find his ex-boyfriend)

Stiles flicks through each of the sites quickly, his inbox updating as he does so. Of course there is nothing to see, he doesn’t expect there to be anything and he slowly lets out a long breathe he doesn’t realise he has been holding.

His inbox finally slows down after a couple of minutes, and Stiles scans the list… work, Amazon, Netflix, business inquires, and information on that exhibition he wanted to attend.

“Thank fuck for that,” he says to no one.

Everything is good.

Everything is fine.

And Stiles pulls his thumb down the screen to refresh the mailbox without thinking.

He stares at the clock timer rotating slowly.

_Inbox updating_

_Message received: DH-*MVP*2015@googlemail.com_

Your inbox is now 86% full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gmail address is made up ;-)


	9. 26% of fires are manmade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Correspondance

To: 'Stiles' Craftsmanintheforest@stillinskidesigns.com

From: Derek Hale

Title: Hi

* * *

 

Hi Stiles, it's me Derek if you weren't sure.

Hope you are well.

 

As you can see they've let me log onto my email. Greg - who you met - said it would be an okay thing to do now I'm past the 30 day stage of the programme and a lot more settled. He's here with me supervising if you are wondering. He says hi and hopes your drive back wasn't to bad.

 

I realise you might not want to speak to me - I kinda dragged you into my mess with the Instagram post but when you where here it felt like stuff was moving in the right direction. I could be wrong though. Things still get a little hazy sometimes because medication I'm on spaces me out - Greg says its okay to tell you that if you where wondering.

 

Yesterday we visited the Joshua Tree National Park which was kinda cool. It's strange but in all the time I've lived here I've never been. You'd love it, a ranger took us around - we walked the Mastodon Peak Hike - and then we went bouldering which was cool - I slipped and fell a couple of times but mostly I kept up. I've tried to stay in shape here using the gym & the pool but I still felt exhausted afterwards. It was good being outdoors though and away from this place - I can see why you like being alone in the forest in your cabin. I know being here is helping and is good for me, but sometimes it feels like the walls are closing in.

 

I hope you're okay. I do. I realise I've broken your trust not once, but twice now, I just hope at some point you can in some way forgive me.

 

Anyway they are calling us for evening meal so I need to sign off. I think it is pot roast with mash and beans tonight.

 

Take care

  
D 

 

P.s. I'm not expecting a reply, it's cool if you don't want to. Reaching out to others is part of my therapy so yeah. It's all cool.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes Stiles 2 days to read it and another 7 to gather up the courage to switch his Wi-fi back on again.

 

28.571% or 2 in 7

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting fact - I wrote this in an email first then copied it over. Method writing ftw.
> 
> Due to working late I won't be able to update this until Tuesday 11th March. I had hoped to keep on track but can't.


	10. 83.33% done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its oh so quiet...  
> Its oh so still...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! 
> 
> We're nearly at the end though.

It's been well over a month now since the email and a rough calculation tells Stiles that Derek is 60 days into a 90 day stint at the rehab place. He never replied to Derek's email. Maybe Derek expected that, maybe not. Of course in the email Derek had said Stiles needn't reply but who knows - he didn’t like to think of his ex-boyfriend sat alone in a small dorm room waiting for his inbox to update.

The past month has therefore been quiet. Stiles has finally finished the chair and sent it out to its new owner (he knocked $100 off the price for the delay). Since then he’s had a couple of smaller projects to keep him busy but mostly it's been quiet. 

He turned the internet back on permanently two weeks ago and retrieved all his messages and notifications in one massive information dump. Surprisingly, there were no more emails from Derek - which Stiles is glad about (kinda) and no one has been contacted by the guy who had pestered Kira.

It’s not like Stiles’ been sat waiting for an update… he has new projects to keep him busy remember.

His Dad’s visited and drank all Stiles’ coffee and finished a whole packet of cookies by himself. And Scott too, once with baby Violet and a couple of other times with the whole family including their wolf looking dog who needed all the fuss Stiles was prepared to give.

Of course this makes Stiles feel unsteady, like the sky up above will cave in. He doesn’t understand why he feels this way only that he just does and he can’t thump that feeling it back down to where it came from.

_‘You’re not gonna do something stupid are you son?’ John had asked him with a mouth half full of cookie._

_‘Of course not Dad, fucking hell!’_

Stiles was angry that his dad would even think that. Okay sure he might have hidden himself away a little (a lot) but Derek Hale wasn’t worth doing that over.

No, Stiles is simply unsettled.

It takes 28 days for the shit finally to hit the fan.

_‘Derek have the Hawks ended your contract?’_

_‘No. The support I’ve had from Terry and the team has been unwavering. These past 90 days have given me a chance to heal and recover and I’m 100% in awe of what the team have done.’_

_‘Derek, are you cured?’_

_‘I’m an addict Barry, I’ll always be an addict. I have a good support network and a good sponsor who won’t dare let me put a foot wrong.’_

_‘Derek about the other issue...’_

_‘Issue? You mean my sexuality? Well, I realise I could have done it better… more appropriately and I apologize for that. But truthfully I’m surprised it didn’t come out sooner – my behavior while drunk did leave a lot to be desired... I am gay though.’_

_'What about the guy you talked about in the video? Can you say who it is?’_

_‘No….sorry...he’s…where he should be. Out of this. I’m not even allowed to be left alone with a pot plant yet so a relationship is completely out of the question.’_

_But you are gay?’_

 _'_ _Yes.’_

  _‘And you intend to carry on playing professional baseball as an openly gay player?’_

  _‘Absolutely.’_

 _'_ _Gentlemen I think that’s enough questions for today.’_

 100%

 


	11. 7.5% success rate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't pass me by  
> Can't you hear me calling out your name  
> Forgive the things I do  
> Don't turn your back when I need you  
> The war rages on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 steps. 12 chapters. 1 more to go.  
> The end is neigh...
> 
> Massive thank you for the kudos, the comments.

D

E

R

Stiles only needs type the first three letters of Derek Hale’s name into the Instagram search bar this time before it recognizes it. He doesn’t even need to hit the letter ‘e’ and Derek’s profile once more appears as the first result at the top of his screen.

It’s scary and makes his heart pound through his chest yet now, after everything that's happened, Stiles is positive he knows when it happened.

His thumb once again hovers over Derek’s name, profile picture of him in his gear and blue official tick. 99% of Stiles wants to ignore the ‘0 new posts’ notification that hasn’t updated itself for the past four months but as always the other 1% is a masochist who apparently still revels in torturing him on an hourly basis.

When his finger finally taps the screen it does so with a force hard enough to break it and finds… Nothing.

Which, to be honest? Is exactly what Stiles expects to find.

Not that he’s been checking okay?

Right?

Right.

The problem is Derek’s radio silence is killing Stiles. Not literally killing him – obviously – and yeah sure Derek did say out loud at the press conference the ‘mystery man’ he referred to in his Instagram was being kept out of the lime light but seriously? It’s been five weeks. Five week of nothing.

The problem Stiles has is that he’s hardly seen anyone else either. Scott has been noticeable with his absences and when Stiles last spoke to his dad, the man had declared quite firmly that he was ‘to busy’ fighting crime. It’s left Stiles feeling unsettled (again) – however it’s a different type of unsettled than before. This time it feels ‘calmer’ and makes him wonder what all the fuss  has really been about. Then he remembers the previous two years, the Instagram video, Derek’s alcohol fused visits to his cabin, the social media posts and how the man had looked at the rehab facility and suddenly it all comes back.

Stiles deals it how he always deals with it though, with an enforced radio silence of this own, a return to his workshop and the familiar repetitive act of sawing, sanding, and varnishing his current work in progress.

The workshop is where Stiles is now. Ear defenders on, he doesn’t hear the click of the double doors as they swing open and the sound of heavy footsteps, until a light breeze carries a pile of saw dust across the crowded space.

“Holy fuck balls! What the fuck are you doing here?” He snaps. The ear defenders are launched across the room in a manner Stiles will only get embarrassed about later because at the moment he is far too shocked at the figure standing in front of him.

“Hey.”

Derek. Derek wearing an old backpack, jeans, hiking boots and a woollen hat, to be precise.

“I…”

Stiles shakes his head in disbelief “…fancied a walk?”

“No. Well kind of yes. But no not really, to truthful I actually wanted say that I’m sorry.”

All the percentages. All of them.

 

   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final update will be posted tomorrow (the 14th). It's a little longer and not quite finished yet. I really want it to be right and to give them the ending they both need.


	12. 150% and Counting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need love  
> Off some of mine  
> Got no time for ache  
> That's just fine  
> Life's too short  
> To be angry  
> Take it out  
> Take it out on me
> 
> Alex Clare - "unconditional"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'tis the end. A massive thank you for the comments and the Kudos. This started out as a 500 word flash fiction and has ended up dominating my life for 14 days instead ending with a 2k finale! 
> 
> Hope you like it. I give them a HEA as promised.
> 
> Much love to all that have read it and those who stuck with it.

To say that Stiles hadn’t been expecting Derek to turn up at his door would have been a lie. He just wished that when it finally happened he’d of had something more eloquent/unique/friendly to say rather than a biting remark about Derek going for a walk.

Part of him however couldn’t help but think that in some ways it was actually the perfect response. It was semi-friendly, not abusive and Derek really did look like he had just left the house for a hike up the hill. The boots, the rucksack, the man resembled a walking advertisement for Merrill.

The fact Derek ‘was’ walking though and hadn’t roared up the driveway in his Camaro raised far more questions than it should do though.

Starting with… “You actually walked?” Stiles asked. The lack of a visible Camaro through the open workshop doors worried him slightly.

“I walked yeah. My car…” Derek replied slowly. “They removed my license from me. After the incident on Instagram apparently I tried to drive to Beacon Hills but I got pulled over and...”

“…Ended up in rehab.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles nodded. It seemed a logical reason. It didn’t explain though why Derek had walked. Sunset Beach was a long way away. “When do you get it back?”

“Sometime next year. Maybe not. It’s like starting over again.”

“Right.” It still didn’t answer the question as to why Derek was now stood in Stiles workshop though. Had he been staying in town? If so, for how long? Stiles studied the man in front of him. Derek looked… lost? Nervous? His shoulders where hunched forward even with the weight of the rucksack on his back. “Are you… where are you..?”

Derek nodded slowly. “In town? Yeah. I’m with… I’m with my sponsor.”

_Well fuck me._

“Your sponsor is in Beacon Hills? Who the hell is it?” Stiles snapped, the dulled pain in his chest was back and he rubbed at it absentmindedly. Stiles knew that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but suddenly things were beginning to fall into place.

Scott.

Kira.

His dad.

“My dad…” Stiles answered before Derek could respond. “My dad is your sponsor isn’t he?”

Derek nodded in reply.

“I’ve hardly seen him for the past month and now I know why.” Thinking that you are the last to know anything can be pretty shitty. Actually ‘knowing’ that you are, is even worse. “Christ, talk about being kept in the dark.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional,” Derek whispered in reply. Stiles watched as he then shifted nervously from one foot to the next, kicking up swirls of saw dust as he did so. The man looked broken. Small. It was a strange sight for Stiles to witness. He was used to the man being so big and large and in Stiles face. Even when he had visited Derek at the rehab place the man had still had a touch of arrogance about him. Now it was obvious he couldn’t bring himself to look Stiles in the eye and boy did that hurt.

“You want to apologise Derek I’m gonna need to see that you mean it.” It had gone well past bullshit o’clock and Stiles suddenly wanted answers. “How are you gonna stand on the crease and face the opposition again when you can even look me in the eye?”

Derek’s reaction to that question was instant.  

“You give yourself whiplash then with that move?” Stiles said with a laugh.

“No… I…”

“It’s okay dude, calm down. I mean it’s not okay. Apparently my ex-boyfriend was an alcoholic and my dad and best friend have been lying to me because I’m guessing Scott knows as well?”

Derek nodded, dipping his shoulders once more. “He knows… yeah. It was his idea. Elliot contacted him because I think he may have thought you were too close.”

“But my dad?”

“Scott suggested him. Elliot thinks your dad is hard ball.”

That he was. “He’s something that for sure.”

“I’ve been staying with him since my discharge. He came to Palm Springs and signed the paperwork.”

Stiles shook his head. He was going to kill John Stillinski. Slowly.

“You don’t go into town anymore.”

That was true.

“They said it there was only a small chance you’d see me… and I didn’t want hurt you anymore than I already have. I mean this is… this is a big deal coming here. It’s taken me all my time to leave your dad’s place; I wanted to be ready to see you on my terms Stiles. Which I know is really fucking selfish because apparently everything has always been on my term, but nowadays they need to be healthier terms. If I learned anything from rehab it’s I’ve gotta be kind to myself and build small bridges with the people I care about.

“It’s taken me a long time to realise haven’t been kind to others,” Derek continued. “Especially you. But my team mates too, they covered for me, stopped me from doing the really stupid stuff. It’s going to take a lot of bridge building and repair work.”

Stiles took a deep breath more so in surprise than anything. The long speech was the most he had heard Derek say in two years. Even when they had been together, words had seemed to get in the way. They’d sneaked around and spent a lot of time huddled together under blankets.

Maybe that was where they had gone wrong.

Suddenly Stiles wanted to touch Derek. He wanted to take his hand, thread his fingers through Derek’s and say everything is going to be okay. He couldn’t though, not yet. Instead he took another deep breathe.

“Derek,” Stiles said nervously.

“I’m so sorry Stiles. For everything. The drinking, the pain, the lies and hurt I caused. The damage I’ve done is… I should have been honest with everyone. Myself included. Stiles…”

“Derek it’s…”

“Please, let me finish. I’m an addict. I’ll always be an addict,” Derek continued. “I threw a lot away, you included. Couldn’t be honest with myself, or anyone really - but mostly with you. I treated you like shit, dragged you through it all, and ignored your warnings.”

Stiles felt the words in his bones. “You goaded me on social media for two years. The parties, the awards. You told people that you couldn’t have _‘done it all’_ without you friends from back home giving you the push you needed. What you didn’t say was that the push was yours and it was me being shoved off a cliff.”

Derek swallowed nervously. “I didn’t mean to, but I knew you were always watching.”

“Did you know I would be watching that night?”

Derek shook his head. “The Instagram post? No, I hoped... Christ, I didn’t even know my own name that night, I don’t remember much about that whole incident to be honest. The whole 12 months have been a bit of a blur. Elliot told me I never mentioned your name though…”

“You didn’t need to mention my name. Scott knew it was me, my dad did. ‘I’ knew it was me you were talking about… _shit_ a small sadistic part of me hoped it was me, because the thought of you with anyone else would break my heart even more.”

Semi-relieved that he’d finally got it off his chest Stiles felt his body sag against one of the vices he had fixed up on his workbench. It was all was true though. In Stiles’ own very twisted mind he’d been jealous that everyone got to have a piece of Derek except him. Two long years ago Derek Hale had broken his heart and chose fortune and glory over a relationship with Stiles. Turning his back on Beacon Hills the man had stayed in the closet, played his game, won some awards and then basically become an addict because he couldn’t handle it.

 Derek’s reply came in the form of a whisper. “Stiles, there hasn’t been anyone else in two years. I couldn’t. The fact I knew you were watching kind of heightened my senses until the alcohol numbed shoved them back down. No other guys, no women, just vodka and pills.”

Stiles rubbed his palms of the thighs of his jeans not quite believing what he was hearing. He caught a slight movement in the corner of his eye and realised that Derek was moving forward. “What do you want from me Derek?” He asked, not sure how or why his voice sounded steady.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Stiles laughed in surprise.

“No, not yet. I’m not allowed anything. I wasn’t joking about the plotted plant thing. I literally can’t handle any sort of relationship at the moment, even with an inanimate object.”

Stiles chuckled awkwardly again. “You best not let any of my potted plants hear you say that.”

Derek returned the chuckle, the sounded echoing around the workshop. “I’m thinking I should stay away from pot plants for a while.”

“And people? Them too?” Stiles asked nervously. It wasn’t going to be perfect for a long time he knew that. Derek still had a mountain to climb in his new hiking boots – he needed to stay sober, get back on the team and stay healthy and Stiles was no fool to think something like that could happen over the night.

“People… people are a work in progress.”

“So, start at the beginning.”

“At zero?”

“0% and counting.”

 

 

2 years later

The snow had come early this year and Stiles had spent all morning clearing a small pathway from the front porch to the workshop. He was cold, wet and needed to strip himself out of his wet gear before he would even think about letting himself back into the small space.

“I would have helped,” a voice said from behind the closed door. “You should have woke me.”

“You were fast asleep. I wasn’t going to wake you up. Yesterday was a big day and you looked exhausted by the time you got in.”

“I put the snowmobile back under the tarp.” Stiles heard Derek huff back in response.

“I noticed. Everything go okay though yeah?”

“Yeah, but I’m not telling you about it through a closed door.”

Stiles arched a single eyebrow at the response. “My hands are full.”

The door opened as if on cue and Stiles was met with his now familiar morning view of Derek in sweat pants, thick socks and a long sleeve t-shirt.

“You brought wood.”

“I did. We’ll need some in here if this snow carries on. We got another meter overnight. Anyway how did it go?”

“Remove you wet gear and I’ll tell you.”

Stiles couldn’t wait though. He quickly ripped his hat off and hung it on his peg, the large waterproof jacket followed next. “Did you pass?”

“Accredited.”

“I mean accredited.”

“Then yes I did. You’re looking at a fully qualified baseball coach now.”

Stiles flung the rest of his outdoor off quickly and practically launched himself at Derek knocking the pair of them onto the large sofa that dominated the room. “I knew you’d do it.” He said with a kiss.

“It means I can take the position offered to me by the High School.”

“Coach Hale eh?”

“Just Derek.”

“For now.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back the grin forming on his face. It had taken them two years for Derek to get to this point. A small blip 13 months ago Derek had ended up back in rehab for brief stint after the Jay’s ended his contract by mutual consent. This time it hadn’t been the contract ending that caused it, instead the response from the media and their intrusion into his and Stiles’ life that had caused the downturn. This time though, Stiles had been his sponsor and the pair had met the media full on.

“I’m very proud of you D.”

Derek huffed in response pulling Stiles back down onto his lap. “Hang on, let me…” he said grabbing his phone. “Photo opportunity for the newly appointed Coach Hale and The Craftsman in the Forest?”

Derek nodded. “Your feed or mine?”

“Yours, tag the business in it too. I get a shit ton of hits to my website whenever you tag me in stuff.”

“Ready?”

“Always.”

150% and counting.


End file.
